


Down In Flames

by frostytrish



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, AoKuro - Freeform, Death, Deppression, M/M, Oneshot, Sadness, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostytrish/pseuds/frostytrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The news of Daiki's death was overwhelming, Nothing can fill the void that he'd left behind. AoKuro</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down In Flames

The shock of the event was disorienting. So many things going on at once and yet I was completely unaware of everything. Even the voice of the person talking to me was lost.  
 _Who was it who told me? Kise? Midorima? Maybe it was Akashi…_  
It didn’t matter who it was, the only thing I had been aware of was that Daiki was dead. No one knew how it started, but his house had caught on fire and he had gotten trapped. By the time the rescue team had gotten to him, third degree burns covered most of his body and he was no longer breathing. Then there came his funeral. I didn’t bother to look around to see who had come, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was Daiki. It all happened way too fast; it felt as though he was with me just that morning, but he’d been gone for almost a week at that point. It probably didn’t help that my perception of time hasn’t been accurate since. I truly can’t recall most of what has happened even now. One second, Daiki and I were laughing and eating breakfast, the next was going into shock from someone telling me that he’d gone. It’s a mystery to me still how I even got to the funeral, surprisingly enough it was an open casket since his face hadn't gotten too badly scorched. Looking into the box as I passed by, he was wearing a tux that he most certainly would’ve argued against wearing. I could clearly hear his protests in my mind; _“I can’t move or do anything with this stupid thing on! What’s wrong with my normal clothes!?”_  
The thought unfortunately didn’t offer any comfort. Instead it only served as an extra reminder of what I no longer had. Never again will I hear his complaints or get upset when he starts talking about “Mai chan”. We will never get to play basketball together again or argue about whose team is going to win. No more late night outings to Maji burger with him when I’m feeling down, and no more surprise dates. I’ll no longer get to feel his strong arms around me in a warm comforting embrace or enjoy the touch of his constantly chapped lips against my own. There will be no more long nights of passion between us. All I have left of Daiki is one of his old shirts that has long since lost his scent. Everything else I had of him had been confiscated by our Teiko teammates. They said I was too obsessed with his stuff and that it’d only make me feel worse to keep clinging to the past. But Daiki isn’t just the past, his presence is everlasting. _How could they discard him so easily!? They don’t understand anything. They knew Daiki well enough, but not like I do … did, no, like I always will. Daiki may be dead, but he will never be gone._  
He may never be truly dead to me, but the pain left from his absence is constant and abundant. Sometimes I feel It’d be easier if the pain wasn’t internal; that I would feel better if all of my pain could manifest into something less surreal. Daiki was physical. Everything about him was, I can still remember his touch on my arm, the way his calloused palm felt against my skin. Everything about Daiki was primal and physical, so it only made sense for the pain to be so as well. The sharp feeling of the knife biting into my flesh, watching the crimson beads roll down my arm in awe. For the first time since Daiki’s death, I could control the pain. Unfortunately I was found out. I don’t remember who now, not that it matters at all, nothing matters anymore, but they saw my cuts and scolded me. I wasn’t allowed to be on my own for a while after that. I really don’t remember how long it lasted, but eventually after the scars had faded some and I agreed to start playing basketball again after taking the last season off, they all backed off a little. Everyone gives me concerned looks now, all the time. It’s one of the most irritating things I’ve ever had to deal with. Sure, I was able to ignore them for a while; however I can’t stand it anymore. It’s no one’s business but mine. I miss being invisible. Occasionally I’m able to evaporate into the distance, but now everyone has their eyes on me all the time. I’m often asked how I am and it’s annoying. _Why can't everyone just leave me alone? It won’t ever make a difference what they say or do, Daiki is gone. He’s never coming back and it’s killing me._  
I take a moment to look back down at the wooden boards that make up my bedroom floor and marvel at the fresh crimson puddle, my consciousness beginning to fade.  
 _Well, It’s not like any of that matters anymore._

**Author's Note:**

> I know this one is short, but please let me know what you think!


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